Reprieve
by Shellecah
Summary: A railroad man and a wealthy widow court Kitty and Matt, testing their relationship, Doc intervenes when a man condemned to hang for murdering his wife's lover falls ill, and Doc orders Chester to take a rest from work when he kills three outlaws in a shootout.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Kitty smiled into the keen dark eyes of the silver-haired gentleman across the table from her at the finest restaurant in Dodge. Her other suitors never invited her to dine at The Crystal Goblet. Matt could rarely afford a place with costlier meals than Delmonico's.

"Do you like the squab?" Trent Wainwright said.

"Mmm," said Kitty. "It's delicious."

"I have a surprise before dessert, my love," said Trent.

"Another gift, Trent?" said Kitty, loading her fork with sweet potatoes and vegetables in wine sauce. "You're spoiling me." She didn't consider refusing his present, as the expense was nothing to him. Wainwright owned a substantial share in the Santa Fe Railroad. He looked a decade younger than his fifty years, had aristocratic, finely cut features with manners to match, and was demonstrative in his affection.

"You look more ravishing than ever tonight," said Trent.

"Thank you," said Kitty, buttering a roll. "But I look the same way I always do."

She wasn't exactly telling the truth. When Wainwright started courting her, she'd styled her hair in soft curls and tendrils around her face, and wore less eye paint and powder.

Matt had noticed the difference. "You did your hair a new way. Your eyes, too. That's nice," he said.

"Thanks." Kitty had gazed into her coffee cup as they sat at a table in the Long Branch.

"You fixed up for Wainwright, did you?" said Matt, with no hint of reproach in his voice. His low tone sounded soothing to Kitty.

She met his eyes, which looked warm, if worried and a bit sad. "He's a good man, Matt," she said.

"You think he's the man for you?" said Matt.

"I like him," said Kitty. "He's handsome and well-mannered, and shows me special attention. And he's rich." The marshal frowned in concentration, as though working a sum in his head.

"You already have the first two qualities," Kitty said, a winsome look in her exquisite blue eyes. "And I don't need the fourth. I'm not rich, but I'm prosperous."

Matt smiled a little. "I can't take you on a riverboat like Wainwright did," he said.

"I like picnics," Kitty said, returning his smile. "Sparkin'. And I like my man to show me a good time."

"I'll remember that," said Matt, closing his big hand around her small soft one.

 _"Kitty."_ Trent's voice cut anxiously through her musing. Kitty blinked as his face came back into focus. "You were somewhere else, entirely, honey," he said. "Where were you?"

"Oh, nowhere," said Kitty. "Just woolgathering."

"My surprise," said Trent. He handed her a black velvet box.

"Oh, Trent," said Kitty. "I'm not ready for this."

"But surely you are," he said. "We've kept company since yuletide, and it's nearly June. Open it before you say anything more, dear. Take a look."

Kitty opened the box. A large emerald rimmed by tiny diamonds on a silver band sparkled in the lamplight. "It's beautiful," she said. "It's the kind of wedding ring I'd want."

"Then marry me, Kitty," said Trent.

Kitty closed the lid. Trent hadn't told her that he loved her, and she wondered if he would. He was a childless widower who could speak fluently on any topic, yet had never mentioned love, giving Kitty the impression that he thought the word itself impractical. Although Matt never talked of love, either.

Kitty reached across the table and put the box in front of Wainwright. "I'm not sure, Trent," she said.

He slid the box in his pocket. "It's Marshal Dillon, isn't it," said Trent. You wouldn't hold me off on account of any of your other two-bit admirers." Kitty was too honest to take offense. Aside from Wainwright, none of the men who courted her could compare to Matt.

"Kitty." Trent rested his forearms on the table, and leaned close to her. "If he cares for you, why hasn't he sought your hand, dear? Why doesn't he propose?

"Dodge isn't so big that folks don't know the goings-on. The marshal is friendly with you, and he walks upstairs with you now and then at the Long Branch," Trent said. "From appearances anyway, there's nothing else."

Kitty's forthrightness would not allow her to pretend shock, and she felt no rancor toward Wainwright. "Matt's the most honorable man in this town," she said. "No man in Dodge can even touch him."

"I know," said Trent. "I admit it readily. That doesn't mean he cares for you in a special way, Kitty. I do." He took her hand and put it to his lips, gazing into her eyes, and Kitty felt an invigorating twinge in her chest, and warmth, as though the sun shone at night inside the Crystal Goblet. "I need more time," she said softly, putting her other hand over his. "I have to be sure, Trent."

"Alright, honey," said Wainwright. "I'll stop pushing you. For now. I won't wait much longer, Kitty. I've been lonely since my wife died, and I'm not willing to keep sharing you with other men. If you continue to refuse me, my dear, I must leave Dodge."

Kitty dipped up a large spoonful of dessert, ice cream topped with hot sugared peaches and cinnamon. "Where'll you go?" she said, and put the spoon in her mouth. She felt no sorrow at the thought of Trent leaving, though she'd miss his companionship and affection.

"Laredo," he said. "To look up an old sweetheart, who is fortunately for me still young. A Mexican lady. We correspond from time to time, and she's never married. She says she's waiting for me."

"Don't let _me_ keep you from her," said Kitty.

"Oh, but it's you I want, darling," said Trent. "I won't give up just yet. Unless you want me to. Do you want me to leave, Kitty?"

Kitty stopped eating her ice cream and regarded him. He looked sad, his dark eyes moist, and she thought of Matt looking sad that day in the Long Branch. She felt guilty, though she hadn't intended to hurt Trent, or Matt either.

"I'm fond of you, Trent," said Kitty. "I like being your friend. I just don't know if I want to marry you."

"Very well," he said. "I'll have to content myself with that for now. Let's enjoy tonight, then. Have you ever strolled on the prairie after dark?"

"No," said Kitty. "And neither should you. It isn't safe."

Trent laughed. "That's what I love about you, Kitty," he said. "Your honesty and your unquenchable spirit. But you needn't worry, dear. I've a gun under my jacket and I know how to use it. The night is warm; we'll have a lark walking in the moonlight."

He pulled out Kitty's chair, and draped her green silk wrap over her shoulders. So Trent had finally, effortlessly, said he loved her. Or at least he loved her honesty and spirit. Matt had never said he loved anything about her.

 _M~~~~_

Matt looked through the jail bars at the cowboy lying on his back on the bunk. An untouched plate of eggs, fatback and biscuits, and a full cup of coffee was on the floor. Damien Hunter looked through the bars, and with glassy eyes met the marshal's gaze. "Will you shoot me, please?" Damien said weakly. He touched his palm to the center of his chest. "Right here will do," he said theatrically.

"No, I won't shoot you," said Matt. "You sick?"

"My head hurts," said Damien. "I want you to shoot me now so I don't have to ride to Hays and walk to the gallows."

"Maybe we won't have to ride to Hays, Damien," said Matt. "There's time left on the appeal. The governor might commute your sentence to prison time. I'll have Chester ask Doc to look you over. He'll give you headache powders."

Doc had told Matt not to let Chester work for a spell. Matt figured the respite could last a year or more, knowing Chester, and saw nothing harmful in sending his partner on errands. Matt hired Tip Jennings as Special Deputy U.S. Marshal while Chester took a rest, though Tip seemed even less inclined to do chores than Chester. Tip was chatty, and did little all day except gossip.

Doc was taking stock of his medicine supply when Chester walked in. "Doc," he said.

"Chester," said Doc. "Not yourself again?"

"I'm fine, Doc," said Chester. "I don't know why you told Mr. Dillon to quit workin' me. T'was jest a little fit."

"Mind you rest like I said," Doc ordered. "You still look more fidgety than usual."

"Oh, I'm enjoyin' ma rest alright, passin' the time with Tip," said Chester. "Mr. Dillon says can you come for that cowboy down to the jail. The one what's sentenced to hang. Damien Hunter."

"I'll get my bag," said Doc. "What's the matter with him?"

"His head aches," said Chester. "He didn't touch his breakfast."

With Matt, Chester and Tip gathered around the jail cell, Doc listened to Damien's heart, looked into his eyes, and felt his forehead. "Looks like brain fever," said Doc.

"Maybe I'll die of it," Damien said hopefully.

"Not unless it gets a lot worse," said Doc. "I'll leave you some headache powders. I know you can't eat, but you have to drink water, or the fever will cook your brain to mush.

"If he gets hotter or he's in more pain, I want him moved to my office, Matt," Doc said.

Damien had stood trial at the Dodge courthouse, and the town sympathized with him. After tracking a stray calf from the Green Hill Ranch where he worked nearly to his homestead, he slipped a rope around the animal's neck and turned it loose in his barn while he went in the house for a glass of his wife's lemonade. Hearing in shock the sounds of lovemaking emanating from the bedroom, Damien moved silently to the open door, and to his horror saw the woman he loved as the root and center of his life in the arms of a Dodge councilman, in their bed.

A soft-spoken man with a hesitant manner and large eyes reflecting uncertainty and a note of fear, if not confusion at the harsh land he found himself in, Damien told his story before the court. "Tina . . . she screamed my name when she saw me," he said. "Councilman Filbert gaped at me, then looked at me like I was dirt. _'Well, what did you expect, Damien?'_ he said. _'Did you truly think a man like you could ever satisfy a spirited woman like Tina? Now you'll go sniveling to everyone at the ranch and in Dodge like the hangdog you are. They won't treat me any the worse, Damien,'_ Filbert sneered. _'I'll keep my seat on the council. They'll just laugh at you.'_

"The councilman barked out a laugh," said Damien, "and Tina . . . Tina giggled like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard, then Filbert guffawed."

Damien drew his gun and shot one bullet through the councilman's heart, then rode to Dodge and confessed to the marshal. Though his wife's lover was the only man Damien had ever shot, and so far as the town knew, he'd never committed a crime before the murder, the judge lacked the courage to grant leniency to the killer of a prominent citizen. Damien was sentenced to death, his wife having long since journeyed on the train to a place unknown.

"Doc," said Matt. He beckoned Doc, Chester and the deputy out of the jail into the office, and closed the door to the cells. "Doc, what's the point in moving him to your office, even if he's dying?" said Matt. "The appeal's not likely to go in his favor. It'll be a mercy if he dies here instead of the gallows."

Doc looked up at Matt. "You'd take him to be executed in his condition?" said Doc.

"I don't _want_ to do it," said Matt. "I don't know as I have a choice."

Doc laid his hand on Matt's arm. "You just have a couple men carry him to my office if he gets worse," Doc said. "If I have my way . . . he may not hang at all."

"What are you up to this time, Doc?" Matt said, smiling.

"Just . . . never mind," said Doc. "Maybe nothing. You'll know soon enough.

 _"Oh."_ Doc glanced at Chester and the deputy, who had seated themselves with a game of checkers at the table. "Come outside with me a minute," Doc said to Matt.

Matt and Doc stepped out on the walk, and Doc closed the door. "That Tip fella any use to you, is he?" said Doc. "Looks like he takes it easy."

"He does," said Matt. "I don't let it get to me, Doc. I'm used to that with Chester."

"I asked you out here about Kitty," said Doc. "Didn't wanna to talk in front of Chester. You know he gets het up over anyone bein' sweet on Kitty except you."

"Doc, is it necessary to keep treating Chester like an invalid?" said Matt. "He seems fine to me."

"Best let me be the judge of that," said Doc. "He's still nervier than usual."

"What about Kitty?" said Matt.

"Do you know Trent Wainwright proposed to her? She told me."

"What did she say?" said Matt.

"She said she needed more time to decide." Doc hooked his thumbs in his vest pockets and turned from Matt, walking a few steps away. "Matt, you don't start showin' Kitty more attention, you just might lose her," said Doc. "Unless you prefer that rich widow lady who's taken a shine to you."

"Maya? She's a fine woman, Doc, but I like Kitty. I guess I should take her on a picnic," said Matt.

"I don't feel much like _picnicking_ right now though; I can tell ya that," said the marshal. "Damien Hunter's layin' in the jail too sick to raise his head, and any day now, I might have to load him into the stage and take him to Hays to hang. I'm just waiting for a telegram from the governor's office on the appeal.

"And I still don't understand what happened to Chester," said Matt. "What if he has another fit?"

"I don't think he will," said Doc. "So long as you let him rest, and he don't get too emotional about anything. He never had a fit before this that I can remember."

Matt and Chester had trailed four bank robbers twenty miles outside Dodge to a stretch of low hills, where the gang took cover and started shooting. The marshal had a touch of recurrent fever 'n ague at the time, and his aim was off. Chester's eye was sharp as ever, and his hand steady.

Matt shot one of the men, and Chester shot the other three. All four died, only two of the three Chester shot took their time at it. Hit below his heart, one of them hollered, _"It's in my spine!,"_ and screamed unceasingly, his body racked with spasms while the marshal and Chester rigged a pallet to carry the two wounded outlaws to Dodge. The screaming man died as Matt and Chester lifted him onto the pallet, so they buried him beside the two that had died in seconds.

The other man was hit on his lower left side, the bullet lodging near his hip bone. Matt and Chester tied him to the pallet as comfortably as they could, and Matt's horse pulled the pallet toward town. Though they stopped several times to give the man water and adjust his position, he cried continuously as his blood soaked the bedroll, sounding at times pained, or afraid, or sad, or all of those feelings together. When they dismounted by the staircase leading to Doc's office, the man was dead.

Other than talking less than normal, Chester seemed fine that night, and the next day. When Matt arrived at the marshal's office from his room at Ma Smalley's early the following morning, he found Chester lying in bed gasping for breath, his eyes distended.

Matt ran to Doc's office, and he and Doc ran back to the marshal's office. Chester was calmly washing up in the basin, looking naught out of the ordinary except his face was pale. He said he was "jest fine, 'cept I couldn't breathe a spell on wakin'." Doc listened to Chester's heart, took his temperature, looked down his throat and peered into his eyes, and said he'd suffered a mild attack of nervous prostration.

Standing outside the marshal's office now, Doc tried to ease Matt's mind about everything so he'd feel free to keep more company with Kitty. "From what I heard of Tip Jennings, he's capable," said Doc, "if he is lazy at chores. He's good with his fists and a fast draw, he can handle anything while you're out with Kitty. And Tip won't trouble Chester none. Looks like they get on well," said Doc.

"They do," said Matt.

"You might have to decide on that picnic with Kitty quicker than you think, Matt," said Doc. "Look who's coming."

Maya Lind carried herself with an air of grounded artlessness, tempered by natural elegance. Though not beautiful like Kitty, Maya dressed as fine. She was Kitty's height, though thinner, with dark hair and eyes and small features. An educated lady, Maya exuded a warm, sure vitality, evoking in the marshal images of fancy hotels and dining rooms, coffee, tea and chilled cordials in tended gardens, and ladies and gentlemen earnestly discussing events and profound ideas. Matt had more than once paid Jonas for the loan of an expensive shirt, vest, tie and pants from the store, and sat in a velvet-upholstered chair in Maya's luxuriant parlor, saying little yet listening attentively to the conversation at her sociables.

Matt smiled without thinking on it when he saw her, as he did with Kitty. "Hello, Maya," he said.

"Hello," said Maya. "Doc."

"Maya," said Doc.

"I invited some guests to lunch, today," she said. "Will you come, Matt? You come too if you'd like, Doc. I'd love to have you."

"Thank you, Maya," said Doc. "I've some calls to make." He touched his hat brim, gave the marshal a meaningful look, and walked away.

"I'd like to come, Maya," said Matt, "but I made plans for today."

"Oh?" she said, smiling. "With Kitty?"

Matt stared at her, baffled by how she could figure his thoughts from the sound of his talk and his face. He took off his hat. "Maybe," he said. "I haven't asked Kitty yet."

"Then she doesn't know you made plans," said Maya. "So perhaps . . . you needn't ask her."

Matt wanted neither to go on a picnic with Kitty, or take part in book-learned talk at Maya's house that day. He felt like going to the Long Branch for a beer and chat with Kitty that night after his rounds, and nothing more.

"You're not inclined to visit today," said Maya. "That's alright, Matt. Though you're probably not in the mood for an outing with Kitty, either. I'll wager an outing is the last thing you want right now. I know I'm a meddling woman, but I can't seem to hold my tongue, so I'll say it. You think you have to ask Kitty on a picnic to give her more attentions so she won't marry Trent Wainwright."

Matt looked at her. He didn't know what to say. She was not only a woman, she was a fine lady. He couldn't tell her that his friendship with Kitty was none of Maya's business.

"I'm sorry," said Maya.

"That's alright," said Matt.

"How is Chester," she said. "Is he still ill?"

"He wasn't really ill," said Matt. He put on his hat, relieved she was done with talking of Kitty, though he didn't know what to say about Chester, either. Matt couldn't wrap his mind around why Doc insisted Chester be treated like a convalescent when he looked and acted healthy. "Chester got too tired," Matt decided to say. "Doc says he needs to rest."

"Well, I hope he feels better soon," said Maya. "Do come see me any time, Matt. Just for a cup of coffee and a chat."

"I'd like to, Maya," said Matt. "Can I see you home?" Maya owned the biggest house in town, midway between Front Street and the back street, and a few yards distant from where the walkway ended.

"Thank you," she said, "but I won't trouble you. I wouldn't make good company on the walk home. I'll be thinking of preparations for my guests."

Matt tipped his hat to her, then opened the office door and looked inside. Chester and Tip Jennings still sat at checkers. "Miss Kitty don't wanna marry that Wainwright," Chester was saying. "She jest wants Mr. Dillon to treat her more—" He saw Matt and stopped.

"I might be out of town a couple hours," Matt said.

"I'll take care of things, Marshal," said Tip. A little shorter than Chester, Tip had a strong lean frame, wiry brown curls cut short to his head, twinkly blue-green eyes more long than round and slightly slanted, and a tawny complexion.

"How's Damien doin'?" said Matt.

"Tolerable," said Tip. "I haven't looked at him since Doc checked 'im out."

"Open the door to the jail, would ya?" said Matt. "And look in on him every few minutes. If the fever's worse or he's in more pain, get some men to carry him up to Doc's."

"Yes, sir," said Tip. Chester had stood and opened the door to the jail as soon as Matt made the request.

"I'll get the men if they're needed,' said Chester. "I run the errands, Mr. Dillon."

"You're not supposed to run errands," said Tip. "You're not to do nothin' 'cept rest."

"I ain't sick, Tip," said Chester, "and I'm wore down of folks sayin' I am. I wish Doc hadn't tole you to not let me work so everyone thinks somewhat's wrong with me, Mr. Dillon. I don't know why Doc would say sech a thing over a teensy fit."

"Doc knows best, Chester," said Matt. "You do as he says. You work for me, so I'm tellin' you not to work. I don't see as it'll hurt you to run errands, but that's all."

Matt headed for the Long Branch, eager as usual to see Kitty, yet glum at the thought of a picnic. Though he had nothing against picnics, he camped out so much as a lawman that he'd rather spend time with Kitty at the Long Branch or Delmonico's.

Kitty sat sipping a mug of beer, absorbed in her thoughts. "Hello, Kitty," said Matt.

"Matt." Seeing him made her feel guilty, and she resented him for it.

"You drinkin' beer alone this early in the day?" said Matt.

"I'm not gonna wait for a man to come sit with me whenever I want a beer," said Kitty. "I have one when I'm thirsty for it, no matter what time it is. You want one?"

"Sure," said Matt.

"Sam," Kitty called. "A beer, please. You alright, Matt?"

"I'm fine," said Matt.

"You look unhappy about something," said Kitty. "Chester alright?"

"He seems fine to me," said Matt. "I don't get why Doc's so adamant about him takin' a long rest."

"Well, that shouldn't be hard for Chester," said Kitty. "How's Tip Jennings workin' out for you? Doc said he's lazy."

"At chores maybe," said Matt, "but Tip's fast with a gun any hour of the day or night, and he's not sluggish keeping prisoners in order."

"Then what's troubling you, Matt," said Kitty. "You look more irritable than anything, now I'm takin' a good look at you."

Matt hesitated. He didn't want to tell her that the thought of a picnic tired him. "I don't want you to marry Wainwright," he said, "and I'm asking you on a picnic."

"That's the only reason you're asking me?" said Kitty. "So I won't marry Trent?"

"You said you wanted your man to show you special attention," said Matt.

"But you don't want to," said Kitty. "Trent enjoys doing things with me."

"I like talking and having a beer with you," said Matt. "And dining with you. I'll go on picnics too if you want."

"I said I like sparkin' and having a good time with my man, too," said Kitty. "I'm not allowed to ask you for that, and if we're on a picnic with nobody around, I don't have to displease you by asking. I can just take, and I always get what I want. Don't look at me like I'm addled, Matt. You know what I'm talkin' about.""

"Kitty, I have no right to forbid you to ask me anything," said Matt. "I never have."

"You don't like me to ask you, though," said Kitty. "You wanna do the asking."

"Maybe I figure you're asking Trent Wainwright," said Matt.

"I don't have to ask Trent," said Kitty. "He asks me so much, I think of excuses to say no."

"Then you sure don't need me to ask you," said Matt.

Kitty looked at him appraisingly. "Yes, I do," she said after a moment. "Forget the picnic. I'm in no mood for one, either. If you don't ask me to my room right now, Matt, I might just go straight to Trent's room at Dodge House and accept his proposal."

"Alright, Kitty," said Matt. "Let's go to your room."

"That easy?" said Kitty.

"Of course it's that easy. I'm a man. And I don't want you to marry Wainwright. So let's go to your room."

Matt's tone was quiet and gentle with no sign of anger. As usual when he argued with Kitty, he sounded reasonable, frustrated, and a little hurt. Kitty regarded him uncertainly, feeling almost like crying, though not quite. He pushed back his chair, stood and held out his hand to her, his eyes warm and patient.

When she still looked at him without moving, Matt figured on it fast, then stepped closer and let his eyes show his desire. Kitty felt the warm flush and the thrumming throughout her body that she needed to respond to him. She rose and slipped her hand into Matt's, and they walked upstairs to her room.

 _M~~~~_

Damien Hunter's jail cell was empty when Matt returned to the marshal's office.

"He was near hot as a lit stove and said his head was fixin' to explode, so Chester rounded up two men to carry him to Doc's like you said, Marshal," said Tip.

"I'll head over to Doc's," said Matt. "What is it, Chester?"

Chester handed the marshal a telegram. "It's the ruling on Damien's appeal, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "They denied it. I knowed how much you wanted his hangin' commuted."

"It's a hard thing, puttin' a noose round a sick man's neck," said Tip.

"Well, the governor doesn't know he's sick," said Matt. "Not that the decision would change if he did know. Telegram says the hanging's scheduled for the day after tomorrow. That means I have to take Damien to Hays on tomorrow's stage. He can't even stand on his own. I have to tell Doc."

When Matt read the telegram to Doc, he shook his head, though he appeared hopeful rather than downcast. Matt would have thought Doc looked excited, were he any man other than Doc Adams. "I knew it," said Doc. "I had a feeling they'd deny the appeal, and soon, so I made ready."

"Made ready for what?" the marshal said, frowning. "What plot did you hatch, Doc?"

Doc moved to the bedroom doorway, looked at Damien in bed in a morphine-induced sleep, and closed the door. "I packed ice around him for an hour and his hair is still wet," said Doc. "I hope he don't catch pneumonia atop the brain fever. That'd finish 'im.

"Set, Matt. I'll pour us coffee. You need to move Damien back to the jail," said Doc, when they were seated with their cups. "Now."

"He can stay in bed here until I take him to Hays tomorrow. He'll be comfortable a few more hours, anyway," said Matt.

"You need to move him," said Doc.

"But, Doc—"

"No. Now, listen to me, Matt," said Doc. "This is the best way to protect you and Tip and Chester from incrimination."

"Doc, I'm not exactly sure what you've got in mind, but as a lawman I have to consider the public safety. Damien Hunter murdered a man," said Matt.

"Say this plan of yours sets him free, he finds another wife and she betrays him. He could murder again, and I'd be responsible. Whatever your scheme is, I'm afraid I can't risk it, Doc," said the marshal.

"You won't have to risk anything, Matt," said Doc. "It'll be out of your hands. It's possible he'd kill again; anything's possible. But it's highly unlikely. Damien told me he'd never fall for another woman."

"That doesn't mean he won't," said Matt.

"He deserves another chance, Matt. It was that blamed councilman's fault," said Doc. "Filbert provoked Damien."

"That's not the point, Doc."

Doc rose from his chair. "Matt, if you don't have him carried back to the jail, I'll move ahead with my plan anyway. I just thought it would be more believable at the jail with Tip and Chester as witnesses."

Matt stood up. "Doc, if your plan is what I think, I don't like it. Someone could get hurt. And what about Chester. You said excitement could bring on another fit."

"It's better if Chester's there at the time, Matt," said Doc. "You'll have two witnesses to what happens instead of one.

"And I don't think a bodily affliction caused Chester's fit. His mind couldn't handle killing those three outlaws close together like he did, then seeing two of them suffer so bad. Chester didn't know that was too much for him , so his head gave him a jolt with the fit, so he'd know to take it easy. Hopefully, he won't have another fit. If he does, get him up here to me, or come get me. It's not life-threatening," Doc said.

"So you're determined to do this thing no matter what I say," said Matt.

"That's right," said Doc. "It'll take place tonight. Just have Damien moved to the jail and be ready. I won't give you the details, and I wouldn't recommend telling Tip and Chester. For their own protection."

Matt opened Doc's office door. "Doc, sometimes I think I'm not the law here in Dodge at all," said the marshal. "You're the law alright," said Doc. "You protect the people, and you help take care of 'em, too. No better lawman than that."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Chester lay sleeping at dinnertime, and Tip was not in the marshal's office. Matt touched Chester's shoulder. "Chester." Chester jumped a little and snorted, then snored some more. _"Chester,"_ said Matt, shaking his partner's shoulder.

Chester's eyes opened and he rolled onto his back, gazing sleepily at Matt. "Mr. Dillon," Chester said.

"Where's Tip?" said Matt. "I need him to find some men to carry Damien back to the jail."

"Tip said he was goin' to pass the time with Moss." Chester yawned. "He said Moss has a mess of smoked antelope and cornbread needs eatin' afore the rot sets in. I didn't go even though I'm powerful hungry. Fixins on the edge sours ma belly. It won't hurt Tip most likely, but Moss oughtn't to eat it, him bein' an old timer."

"Get two men, will you, Chester?" said Matt. "Take forty cents from the till to pay 'em."

"Yes, sir." Chester slowly sat up. "I'm so hungry, I'm swimmy-headed," he said. "You eat dinner yet, Mr. Dillon?" Chester yawned again and rested his head on the wall, his face going slack.

"You're not goin' to sleep again, are ya?" said Matt.

"Huh?" said Chester, his eyes closed.

"I'm going to ask Kitty to Delmonico's for dinner," said Matt.

Chester's eyes opened. "I seen their menu for tonight on the board," said Chester. "Roast duck and yams and fried tomatoes. And berry pie."

"Come on, Chester," Matt said. "We'll find the men and get Damien back to the jail, then we'll get Kitty and go to dinner."

"Damien take a good turn, did he?" said Chester. "That might could help him face the noose."

"Doc iced the fever, but Damien's head's still bad off," said Matt. "Doc thinks it best we move him back to the jail."

Kitty was not at the Long Branch. "You know where Kitty went, Sam?" said Matt.

"She left with Trent Wainwright," said Sam. "I heard Miss Kitty say they were going to Delmonico's."

"He cain't keep Miss Kitty to hisself like that," said Chester. "You need to do something about him, Mr. Dillon."

"I thought I did," Matt said reflectively.

"What'd you do," said Chester.

"I . . . spent more time with Kitty."

"So now we don't get our dinner on account of that Wainwright," Chester fretted. "Cuz you don't wanna see him and Miss Kitty eatin' together."

Matt pondered a moment. "Well, I'm not gonna miss out on roast duck and yams on account of Trent Wainwright," he said. "We'll take a table next to Kitty. I don't think she'll mind. So we can talk to her, too."

Kitty and Trent sat at a table against the wall. Matt moved to their table with Chester behind him. "Hello, Kitty," said Matt. "Trent."

Trent looked up at Matt and paled. The man clearly was afraid of him, though Matt didn't know why, as he'd always been civil to Wainwright.

Kitty smiled. "Hello, Matt. Chester," she said. "Why don't you two sit at this table by ours."

"You're being rather boorish, Marshal, don't you think?" said Trent. "Kitty and I are having a private conversation." Wainwright was still afraid. His chest rose and fell through his vest, and his eyes were wide.

"Matt's never boorish," said Kitty, "and we're not talking about anything he and Chester can't hear."

Trent sighed noisily and threw his napkin on the table. "Kitty, either you want me, or you want the marshal," he said. "You can't have both of us. Which is it to be, my dear."

Kitty cut a generous piece of duck and put it in her mouth. "I like you both," she said, chewing. "If you can't live with that, don't let me keep you, Trent. You might be happier with your sweetheart in Laredo."

Trent rose from the table and stared at her a moment, his eyes growing wet, and Kitty quickly stood. "I'll walk you out," she said softly. He fumbled in his pocket and put some coins on the table, and Kitty took his hand. "I'll be back," she mouthed over her shoulder to Matt.

Kitty and Trent walked a few steps away from the restaurant, and she took his hands. "Trent, I'm sorry," she said. "I never meant to hurt you. You're a good man, and a gentleman. It's just that . . . ." Kitty's voice caught, and she felt her eyes watering. "Every time I start to feel for another man, I realize I love Matt." A hot tear from each eye dripped down her face.

Trent blinked his eyes dry and cleared his throat. "He makes you unhappy, Kitty, because he won't commit to you," Wainwright said. "Will you wait for him all your life? Maybe you should think long and hard about that." Trent wiped her tears with his thumbs. "Dearest Kitty," he said. "This is goodbye. I wrote a letter, and she's waiting for me." Kitty put her arms around him, and he hugged her, then turned and walked toward his room at Dodge House.

She went back to Matt and Chester in Delmonico's. "Good," Kitty said. "You two haven't been served yet. Let's move to that roomier table on the other side." Matt and Chester rose, and with Kitty between them, walked across the dining room. She linked her arms through theirs on the way to the table, and Matt pulled out a chair for her, touching his hand to her shoulder before seating himself.

 _M~~~~_

Tip and Chester didn't ask why Matt chose to spend the night at the marshal's office. Chester tended more often than not to accept Matt's decisions without question, and Tip seemed too easygoing to care one way or the other.

Chester wanted Tip to sleep in the bunk in the empty jail cell, and Matt to take the bed in the office while Chester bedded down in his roll on the floor, but Matt told him to take the jail bunk, and Tip to sleep on the floor in the office. Whatever the particulars, the marshal distrusted the safety of Doc's plan for Damien Hunter. Though Tip's gunbelt would hang on the wall as he slept, he was surer and faster in his thinking than Chester. Matt draped his gunbelt on its hook before he lay down, figuring three unarmed men would lessen the risk of anyone getting shot. When the marshal heard Chester and the deputy snoring, he moved silently to the office door and unlocked it, then lay down with his boots on and waited, wide awake.

After about three hours, the office door opened, and a big man holding a gun stood on the threshold. "Don't move," the man said, stepping inside.

"Mind if I sit up?" said Matt.

"Please," said the man. "You look strong enough to carry him out, unless he can walk."

Tip woke and sat up on his bedroll on the floor. "Oh, good gracious sakes alive," he said.

"It's alright," said the big man. "Just do as I say, and no one gets hurt."

"What is it you want?" said Tip.

"I'm busting Damien Hunter out of jail."

The night was dark with no moonlight, the stars covered by clouds. Matt and Tip couldn't make out the big man's features, and Matt knew the man wanted it that way.

"I'll get Damien," said Matt. He took the key from its hook, moved to the cell, and unlocked the door.

"Mr. Dillon?" said Chester from the other cell.

"Stay where you are, Chester," Matt said in a low voice. "A man's here holding a gun on us. I have to free Damien."

"Oh, my goodness," Chester whispered, sitting up.

"I'm not expecting anyone to bust me out," said Damien. He sounded scared.

"I won't tell the fella to leave," said Matt. "He has a gun."

"But Mr. Dillon," said Chester.

"Chester," Matt said. "You don't need to be afraid," the marshal said to Damien. "This man's not gonna hurt you."

"Well . . . what've I got to lose," said Damien. "If I don't go with the man, I'll hang anyway."

"That's right," said Matt. "Can you walk?"

"Yes," said Damien. "I feel much better. The pain's gone. I'm just mighty weak and fuzzy. The room's tilting every which way."

Matt put Damien's boots on his feet, then remembered Doc's words about Tip and Chester as witnesses. "Follow me out, Chester," Matt ordered. "And don't reach for a shotgun. I don't want anyone hurt." Matt helped Damien walk through the door between the jail and the office, where the big man stood holding his gun.

"Everyone out," the man said, waving them outside with the gun. "I don't wanna get shot at."

"Do as he says," Matt said quietly to Tip. _"Only_ what he says." Tip nodded, and they all walked through the door ahead of the big man, Damien leaning on Matt.

A covered wagon with two armed men on the seat was outside the marshal's office. "Help him inside the wagon," the big man said to Matt. Matt helped Damien lie on a mattress inside the wagon and stepped back. "All the way to the door," the big man said. Matt, Tip and Chester moved back to the office door. "Thank you," the big man said, and climbed into the wagon bed with Damien.

The man holding the reins clucked to the horses, setting them off at a canter down Front Street, headed out of Dodge. Matt, Chester and Tip moved into the street and watched them ride away.

"Can't recollect ever seein' jest such an escape as that," Chester said in a hushed tone. "You reckon they'll treat Damien alright, Mr. Dillon?"

"I'm sure they will, Chester.

"I have to see Doc about something and have breakfast before I write a report on the breakout, and the three of us need more sleep," said Matt. "Then I have to mail the report to headquarters, maybe by tomorrow afternoon.

"At the rate they were driving that wagon, they'll be out of my jurisdiction by then, so there's no point trackin' 'em. Damien will be filed away as an escaped fugitive, and hopefully that'll put an end to it."

"I sure hope he gets away over the Mexican border," said Tip.

"So do I," said Chester. "You hope Damien gets away, too, don't you, Mr. Dillon."

"Yes, Chester," said Matt. "I do."

Matt was surprised to see Maya Lind at Doc's the next morning. "Maya," said Matt.

 _"Matt,"_ said Maya. "Good heavens, you were long getting here. I wanted to run with Doc to the marshal's office at sunup, but Doc says for their protection, Chester and Tip mustn't hear we planned this. Did Damien Hunter get away safely? Do hurry and tell us, Matt."

The marshal looked at Doc. "I needed help with my plan," said Doc. "No way I could do it alone with so little time. Maya knows a lot of folks who save people sentenced to death, people who killed for an understandable reason and most likely won't kill again. It's sort of an underground railroad for the condemned. Maya donates to the cause."

Maya pulled up a chair for Matt, and poured him a cup of Doc's coffee. The marshal looked into her fervent dark eyes, and her radiant strength and refinement surrounded him, like a door opened into a dazzling land. "The people who serve this cause are mainly Catholics and Quakers," she said. "Damien is traveling to a parish in Costa Rica. The nuns there will nurse him to health, and the parish will give him some farmland. Costa Rica abolished the death penalty a few years ago, Matt," said Maya.

"I know of some very poor folks never hurt a soul would count it a blessing to get half what they're givin' Damien," said Matt. "He's being rewarded for murder." The marshal sipped his coffee and frowned at Doc.

"Oh, _no,_ Matt. It isn't like that at _all,_ " said Maya. "You must come to my luncheon sociable Sunday after church. We have an ongoing debate over the death penalty, and it needs livening up. Our circle is always honored and excited to see you. You make such an interesting contribution, Matt.

"You come too, Doc, if you like," said Maya. "The doctor has an open invitation."

Matt looked curiously at Doc, who was looking intently at the marshal. Matt occasionally wondered how well he knew Doc. The look he wore struck Matt as peculiar. Doc's face, not normally expressive, appeared at the same time triumphant, crafty and mischievous.

Matt grinned slightly, more amused than vexed. "You think busting a condemned man out of jail is funny, do ya, Doc?" he said. Doc sniffed silent laughter. "We oughta do it more often, since it makes you so happy," said Matt.

"Of course we'd never laugh if a _villainous_ man went free," said Maya. "But Damien's always been so mild-mannered and civil."

"He never broke the law so far as I know, before he killed Filbert," said Matt.

"And Councilman Filbert was a horrid person," said Maya. "Beyond taking Damien's wife in their bedroom while he mocked poor Damien. Filbert _always_ acted ill-bred. So you see, Matt, it all works out for the best."

Though Maya was a genteel lady, her loud low-pitched laughter reflected her naturalness. Matt smiled widely as Maya's laughter drifted through the window.

Down below on Front Street, Chester heard the mirth and looked up in wonder. "That's Maya Lind," said a man in a fine brown suit, as he came up beside Chester at the foot of the staircase. "She surely has a hearty laugh for a lady." The man had a thin waxed mustache, and wore spectacles.

"That's Mrs. Lind?" said Chester.

"Would you be Chester Goode?" said the man.

"I am," said Chester. "Who are you?"

"I'm Dr. Jules Simeon."

"You here to visit Doc?" said Chester.

"Well, Dr. Adams told Maya about your problem, Chester, and she hoped I could come here and see you. She wired me from Wichita," said Simeon.

"Why would Mrs. Lind wire you to see me?" said Chester. "I'm not sick, and when I am, I jest go right up these stairs here and see Doc. I don't know what gets into Doc. I ain't got no problem."

"Maya said you were stricken by nervous prostration," said Simeon.

"You mean the fit?" said Chester. "Twas jest one tiny fit. Doc tole me not to work a spell, and rest myself."

"Yes, yes," said Simeon. "Rest is always recommended for nervous exhaustion. I specialize in minds, Chester. I can help you think and feel better about yourself."

"Are you a lunatic doctor?" said Chester.

"I'm a psychiatrist."

"I'm not mad," said Chester.

"A person doesn't have to be mad to benefit from my services, Chester."

"Ain't naught wrong with me," said Chester. "I jest need to talk to Mr. Dillon. He's up to Doc's." Chester started up the stairs, and Simeon followed him.

"Don't you think you should let Dr. Adams decide if you need me to treat you, Chester?" said Simeon. "There'll be no charge. I treat charity cases as well as paying patients."

"No," said Chester. "And I ain't no charity case."

Chester opened the door to Doc's office, and Simeon followed him inside. Matt, Doc and Maya rose from their chairs.

 _"Jules,"_ said Maya. She held her hands out to him, and they shared a light kiss.

"You look well, Maya," Simeon said.

"Jules, this is Marshal Dillon, and Doc Adams," said Maya. Matt and Doc greeted Simeon and shook hands. "I see you've met Chester," said Maya.

"Yes, ma'am," said Chester, taking off his hat.

"Mr. Dillon, Tip took the stage to Topeka. A boy come to the office with a telegram. Tip's father took sick with consumption, and Tip might not be comin' back to Dodge.

"That means I gotta go back to work. Never thought I'd get a hankerin' for chores," said Chester. "Doin' nothin' sech a long spell does wear a body down."

"I want you to go back to work, Chester," said Matt. "If Doc says it's alright."

"Well," said Doc, "You look sound and steady, and you haven't had another fit. Just don't overdo it."

"I don't think there's any chance of that," said Matt.

"Doc," said Maya. "I know I shouldn't have interfered without asking you and Matt first. I only wanted to help Chester, and I was overeager as usual.

"Do forgive me, Chester," said Maya. "I should have asked you first, too."

"That's alright, Mrs. Lind," said Chester.

"This have something to do with you?" Matt said to Simeon.

"I'm a psychiatrist, Marshal," said Simeon. "Maya thought perhaps I could help Chester."

"That's up to Chester," said Matt. "Doc says he's ready to go back to work."

"I am, Mr. Dillon," said Chester. "I'm not mad. I don't need no lunatic doctor."

"Why, of course you're not mad, Chester," said Maya. "Not at all."

"Well," said Simeon. "Since I won't be treating a new patient, I'd like to take you for a buggy ride, Maya. Just you and me. It's a beautiful day for a ride, and we've a lot to talk about."

"I'd like that," said Maya. "Will I see you at my sociable, Matt?"

"Thank you, Maya," said Matt. "I have plans for Sunday."

Maya smiled at him. "Tell Kitty I said hello," she said, and went out the door with Simeon behind her.

"Chester. Doc," said Matt. "How about breakfast? I'd stop by the Long Branch for Kitty, but she's probably just now wakin' up."

Chester was quiet as they walked to Delmonico's, fiddling with a rawhide tie around his neck.

"What have you got there, Chester," said Doc.

"Big feller what broke Damien out the jail last night hung it on the inside doorknob at the office," said Chester. "I seen the feller do it out the corner of my eye, and I took what he hung on the knob off as I was first back in the office afore you and Tip, Mr. Dillon. I scrunched it in my hand, and looked at it when I was fixin' to lay back down to sleep.

"I shoulda tole you 'bout it afore now, Mr. Dillon, only I thought you might put it as evidence in your report letter for the post, and I wanted to wear it so as to sleep without troublin' dreams. I didn't think it would do no harm to wear it," said Chester. "I'll give it to you straightaway if you need it."

Chester raised the rawhide tie in his fingers, and pulled out a small silver cross from between his shirt and his union suit. "Last night was the first since I killed them three outlaws I had no troublin' dreams," he said. "I didn't dream at all, and my head don't skitter none since I'm wearin' this."

"You keep it, Chester," said Matt. "I can mail my report without it."

"Oh," Chester sighed, looking relieved and pleased. "I will." He tucked the cross inside his shirt.

"You didn't tell me about havin' bad dreams, Chester," said Doc. "Come back to my office after breakfast, and I'll give you some sleeping powders."

"I don't think I'll need your powders, Doc."

Doc patted Chester's arm. " _'This is the rest wherewith you may cause the weary to rest; and this is the refreshing,'_ " Doc said.


End file.
